Memoirs of DnD!

I didn’t even blink before I deleted the last message I had sent long ago. I was trying to get over memories, get over a hang-over…get over all my sleepless nights, all my failures. I wished I could start afresh, start anew, start a-numb. I keep my cell phone clean. There is not a single name in my call-list, not a single message in my inbox. I never cease to delete those names because, when I look at those names, I get a feel that there are other people in my life besides myself. And all I want to believe right now is that there is not a soul around me, and I want to really relish being so alone, so-so alone in this world. This, in fact is, the truth.
To want to be taken on a flight, short leaps and jumps in lustful air…falls beyond my reach, for now and forever.
My body wants to hide beneath layers of flesh and blood, the thousand wishes that have perturbed my thoughts for years now. As she has never been as wild as my mind is. Nor will ever be.
My mind needs to be engulfed in a musical silence, and she wants to be carried away, away and away, into unknown terrains of unchartered glee. Everlasting latitude.
But more than that, my mind wants to be left alone for now and forever. I really really want to relish being so alone, so-so alone in this even lonelier world.
I want to be seated on shiny staircases, throughout breezy midnights, and feel my hair brush my back. I want fingers to twirl around fingers, and love to rise back to life, like a phoenix.
Is this lust? If it is, then I lust for more…!

In Pursuit of Happyness

'How art thou?'

'Trying to be happy!'


'I said trying to be happy...'

'What's that? You're either happy, or you aren't. How can you try to be...happy?'

Hadn't cared much about this statement then. That was way back.

But now,

Yes, one can try to be happy. I am trying to be happy. Precisely because there is no
reason to be...not happy, unhappy, sad.

I have been swaying over whether to write this or not. But let me reveal this least some of it.

Have you heard of withdrawal symptoms? -awkay...U have-

There was a time, when there were many things i wanted to have, at one go. And I
had none of them. I just had hints that i would get them some day.

-is this going very abstract?- -do u get me?-

i chased things...i shed my old aspirations for new ones. i was lost in a hazy maze...

People got to know that i am not as dumb as i look. People got to know that i write.

So many asked me to show my skills by writing them gtalk..messenger status

Some stooped even lower..asked me write for letters...-okay..this one
was absolutely preposterous-

Many asked me just blurt into a mike...i would stutter and smile but oblige...

Some supposed i am insane- am i not?-

I am very away from the world i am in...i don't know what's happening right under my nose...

And some days ago, the stress just got too much, i crumbled under the pressure...i
had a complete system breakdown. i would call up my only acquaintance, and cry.

Life started gettin bad to worse. I felt I had nothing. And would have nothing for the rest of my life.

I started having those withdrawal systems.

I-shall- sit-back-and-watch

Things went on for some more time. And then one day, i cried just too much. I
caught up with the courage not to care, not to think so much. And surprisingly i liked being that way. And there was this mysterious consolation that

And i decided that i would try to be happy. Little by little, I piled up my efforts. I smiled at people...earlier I din't even look at. I tried to befriend them. I tried to break away from the cocoon I had caged myself in.

I looked down the rusty memory lane. I felt happy. I felt sad. I felt happy-sad. Felt satiated with my hyphenated existence. There are no discrete answers to the
questions of life. Things are a lil fuzzy out here...

There is nothing like...if you're not happy, all you can be is sad...

You can always be trying to be happy...trying to chase the illusion, that happyness

-does this post lack focus?-



One moment I felt so very lonely in this big world.But the void in my life began to fill up as thoughts of Palash trickled into my mind. Palash is everything you would relate everything negative to. He is such a cynic, a misanthrope, a sadist…even then he is as beautiful as fresh gulmohar strewn on green grass. One can’t find a reason to hate him.
When did I meet him? I saw him wave at me, when I had no one of my own to see me off when I was leaving for a place far away. And after that I found Palash on the empty seat beside me.
I like his shirts tucked in. He likes them hanging lose. Every time after class I would find him standing outside, waiting, I would raise my nose at the shirt so mercilessly abandoned, and he would tuck it half in and half out!
Would mutter…’this is the way you strike that perfect neutral’

When he would loiter throwing groundnut shells everywhere, I would stamp his feet hard reminding him the one thousand three hundred and thirty seventh time not to do so, he would quip ‘Lady, that’s just organic waste’
‘Yeah Organic waste, all that your skull has got in it’

Shrewd looks, naughty winks, irrepressible laughter and sticking your tongue out at those tiny nothings are gestures that Palash and I share.

SMS’ with just a smiley in them, calls at 6 30 in the morning asking ‘Let’s talk?’ are the pleasantries we exchange. We leave the constraints of civilization way behind, when we are together. Palash is the only one who can afford to see me at my wildest best!

I like to twist his ears till they literally detach themselves…I like to be a kindergarten-goer with him, yet he brings out the lady in me…so well.
When I just don’t get his certain words, I would be consoled ‘Accent problem, Madame!’

‘But yours is an attitude problem’

People say he indeed has one attitude problem. People say both of us are loners. But we are always together, aren’t we? And people say so many things…

But Palash continues to remain all that he is, as beautiful as fresh gulmohar strewn on green grass. One can’t find a reason to hate him.

Looking for an Alternative-Some pure heart emptying stufF

I had a brain storming session and everything in life that is like my staple food immediately shifted to a hazy back ground. Love, the lack of it, solitude, sorrow...frustration everything lost its significance for that sometime. The only thing that blinded me was some kind of a professional slit throat competition. I
lost my capacity to think. I almost lost myself. It was not the usual hopelessness that took over. But there was this blockade that occurred in my brain that prevented me from thinking fast or from thinking at all for that matter. For that sometime the silent musical life I lead looked so distant. The new skin I was supposed to wear looked yet so alien. I din't exactly feeling valueless because I was so trying to
improve myself by analysing my lacunae. But then there were so many things I needed to entire thought process in my mind was like paralysed. I was somewhere where my ingenuine spontaneity ditched me, and ditched me bad. Haven't I had enough of being myself? Just myself. Is the time ripe for introducing things that could make me the person that the profession I have chosen should make me? And by the way, what profession have I chosen for myself? Engineering? Why did I do engineering? Because that was what was the normal course of things after twelfth. And after scoring real bad in it, learning practically nothing out of it, I am wiating for someone to
drop down from the holy heavens and give me a job. And what am I upto now? I am giving entry into a B school, a try. A casual try. I try not to ask myself questions. Things go haywire. Because I never know the answer to these questions. I can't prove myself brave enough to fish in unchartered waters. So I never take that unnecessary risk. Because taking a risk so naturally leads to worrying. And I never wanted to add to my pile of worries, as I happen to be a person with an affinity for the darker things in life. And so strong is my this affinity that I almost like being sad and alone. And for the above mentioned reasons I have never taken risks. Also honestly, before my engineering,I had been subject to some kind of a stress to perform,
and perform somewhat, should I say, par excellence. So performing well takes a non-thinking-and-not-giving-a-damn-fellow via a well beaten path. So I never involved myself in stuff that people generally din't do. So this is where I have landed. A place that looks so much like a dumping ground, where the world dumps unwanted hav-nots. I would be a coolie that could do things that almost 80% of the working
class does. I lack class, I lack vision. I am a rote learner. I never had the guts to take out of my way risks. Most importantly, I am hellishly lazy. I am just one smug person who loves herself very dearly.What are the good things about me? I am spontaneous, and sometimes, out of the box innovative. But my creativity doesn stand
me in good stead when I need it the most. It just pokes its head when I am in the middle of a boring lecture I should be paying attention to. And let me not forget. I am honest too. Honest about my weaknesses. I am honest in criticizing myself. But oh I am so running out of my criticism. I need a capsule or two lateral thinking. How could anybody be so screwed up with the Tom-Dick-Harry whatever way of thinking?
This is not an identity crisis. Because an identity crisis is at times at some abstract level. But I am facing bare truths about myself after a long long time.
Should I have taken the other road? Could I have survived had I picked up humanities...literature? May be not...I have never wanted to do things that have been forced down on me. Anyway, everything would have invariably lead to a failure.
It's not an emotional mess I am in. I am not troubled or anything. But I know I am in a mess. I am conscious of this well thought of disaster that awaits me a few months from now.
May I Rest In Peace

Ash Tray

It must have been hours now that I have sunk into this arm chair. I raise my eyes to figure out the time on the clock. 3 30?
There is smoke everywhere.
It must have been weeks now that I have ever been out of my apartment. What have I been living on?
Left out cereal, smoke and you! Remnants of you rather…
Is a new day about to dawn? I don’t open my windows anymore.
I raise my eyes again. What is it standing near the door? Is it a woman? Is it you?
Just an apparition I know. The woman I see there is a figment of my subconscious. A bit of my subconscious, thrown outside my mind which so much wants to see you again. For one last time.
Should I run to you again and try to hold you, and then find my hands running through nothing but air?
Should I try to make myself believe that it was actually the handle of the door that shone like something else, the shadow of the curtain looked like something else. And all of them, taken together, looked like all I wanted to see. And all I wanted to see was you. For one last time.
Should I squat on that floor and moan again?
I sit here and pick up my umpteenth cigarette tonight, as your shadow near the door continues to be there. I stretch myself. I close my eyes and let the smoke out my nostrils. This smoke would burn all my organs a day, you would’ve said. So, I have no one to nag me after you’re gone!
The ash tray is under a heap of ash now. Should everything catch fire and end up adding to this heap of ash? Should it?

forays into the forbidden...

We just drift apart...
Away and away
And one day, we continue as perfect strangers...
Is that it? This is what a break up is?
From today on, we cease to love each other...Full stop?
We separate because, we fail to understand each other, unlike yesterday...
Or was it a mistake that we ever came together...? Was love a mistake?
We call it off...the buzz stays for a day or two, and then fades into distant memory...
The storm ends, the dust settles down.
How feasible is it for us to wipe it all out, and look for new love?
I know a guy who when they split, wished that she find better love...!
He wrote her a beautiful poem , asking her to remember him, whenever she is awake late in the night, whenever she walked alone in the snow...whenever the raw feel of fresh feelings moistened her heart, if ever again..!

And for those who didn’t feel like commenting on my last post here is something...

Though the love has left… a remnant remains
It continues to live as a part of me
The story that failed to complete, irks the heart in lonely evenings…
And whenever I feel the petals of a rose pressed neatly somewhere in my diary
And whenever I look at the road that looks so empty
And whenever I feel my pulse, trying to find out if I am alive
But now that it’s high time, people say
I should’ve become indifferent and numb
Even then, the numbness remains…
Love doesn die…